Clueless
by czaplabtheswagmonster
Summary: America did something dumb. What else is new? One-sided USUK.


**Title: Clueless**

**Summary: America is an idiot. About friggin' EVERYTHING. One-sided USUK.**

**Rating: T, for the ending.**

**Genres: Romance/Humor**

**Characters: America and England**

**A/N: England says _self-harm _like that because he's the equivalent of a prude when it comes to stuff like that. He doesn't say beer or drunk or pot, he says _alcohol_ and _intoxicated_ and _marijuana_. A proper British dude.**

England let out a contented sigh as he surveyed the neatly organized guest bedroom. Toris must've put it together, because the place was spotless and tasteful (unlike the owner of its house). He could cook, clean up the messes around here… Maybe his month at America's while his house was being renovated wouldn't be so bad after all.

Of course, the small matter of him being in love with his host would add an uncomfortable element of romantic tension, but as America had no idea, at least it would only be one-sided.

England sighed and sat down heavily on the bed. He'd known he was in love with the strong, obnoxious, cheerful ball of electricity that was America since the moment he'd walked in the door after his colony had grown to the teen years in a ridiculously short amount of time. And America had never, ever indicated any inclination towards England other than that of a friend. At least the ex-colony wasn't _straight_ – he had dated everyone from France to Russia to Japan to his last boyfriend, Korea. But America didn't even know that England was gay. It definitely wasn't a bright future.

"IGGYYYY!" came the wail of said America.

England sighed again – he'd been doing that a lot lately – and left the guest bedroom. What did the idiot want now? "Don't call me that. Where are you?"

"I'm in the kitchen!" came the reply.

The kitchen was ridiculously far away. This house was far too bloody big for America and a few servants. What did he _use_ it for? He wouldn't buy a whole house just for parties…would he?

England stepped into the kitchen to see the subject of his daydreams sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the cabinets. The visual whimper on his face would be completely out of place on most adults, but strangely fit with America's honest features. Perfect features, features that almost never lacked a grin, features that captured England's every glance at world meetings and diverted any sentient thought from his brain – right. Business.

England crouched down to the other nation's level. "What is it, America?"

America displayed his left hand. There was a long slit across it, messy with a bright red liquid.

England gasped. "America! What did you DO to it, you bloody idiot?" He wasn't…he wasn't…_self-harming_, was he?

Already he had stood up and made for the bathroom next door. If he remembered correctly…got it! He snatched a band-aid and Neosporin from the medicine cabinet, hurrying back to hear the American's explanation.

"I was sharpening my kitchen knives," he began, a slight quiver in his voice, "and I'd just finished the carving knife. I wanted to see if it was sharp enough to cut through skin."

England blinked.

"It was," America added unnecessarily.

"Stand up," England ordered, "and walk over to the sink." America obliged, absently licking the blood off the cut. The Brit grabbed a fistful of his former colony's hair, shoved his head under the faucet, and turned it on full blast. When America shot up, spluttering and wet and banging his head on the spigot in the process, England simply said, "That's for being such an idiot. Now give me your hand, you got it all dirty when you licked it." Ahhh…dirty, licked, and America in the same sentence… BRAIN DISTRACTIONS ARE A GOOD IDEA. England snatced the proferred hand and started washing it out, thumbs rubbing circles on America's palm. (Any excuse.)

The younger nation was unusually quiet, and England, glancing up, melted on the spot. America looked like a drowned puppy, wet hair plastered to his head, small pout gracing his lips as he watched the older nation. England didn't realize that he'd stopped washing the cut until America glanced at him in confusion. "Now what?"

England started and felt heat spread across his cheeks. The hulking teenager had somehow managed to look, for once, instead of handsome or hot or sexy, _cute_. Who would've guessed? "Get some paper towels and dry it off," he instructed.

"Okay. What's that for, though? The water feels nice and…" England hid a smile. That was his America.

"It's so the band-aid can stick," he explained. "Now do it." America grumbled, but patted the cut dry. "Like you're a little colony again," England muttered, with more of an amused edge than an angry one. "Are you _ever_ going to grow up?"

"Not if it makes me like you," America teased, dodging his ex-brother's sudden whip with the dish towel.

"Oh, shut up, you bloody American," England grumbled, albeit with uncommon good humor. America did that to him. He twisted the cap off the Neosporin and squeezed a line of the gel down the three-inch cut, cheeks as flaming as he was. England then set down the tube and selected a large band-aid.

America, meanwhile, was sniffing the Neosporin curiously and bringing it to his mouth. "What are you _doing_?" England yelped, snatching away the gel and glaring at him. "You could kill yourself!"

America blinked, hurt. "I just wanted to see what it tasted like…"

England employed his hand to slap his forehead as he unwrapped the band-aid. "Now hold out your hand," he instructed, and applied the large bandage.

"Thanks, Iggy!" said America cheerfully. He hugged the blonde around the waist, ignoring his halfhearted struggle (as usual). Leaving everything spread across the counter, he bounced out of the kitchen, leaving a discouraged nation leaning against the counter.

America would never figure out that England was in love with him, would he? At love, as with pretty much everything, he was, frankly, clueless.

**A/N: So guess where the inspiration came from? I did the exact same thing as America (well, minus the England part, unfortunately). I was sharpening my Swiss army knife and was wondering if it was sharp enough to cut through the skin of my palm. I now have a two-inch-long cut on my palm. I am the dumbest straight-A student I know. :S I put in the side kimchiburger because I FRIGGIN' LOVE THAT PAIRING. ****This will be continued if I get inspiration, but was meant as a oneshot (and also, I couldn't break up America and Korea), so don't get hopeful. Anyway, review?**


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